Considering himself an empiricist and a vitalist, his body of work,
which rests upon concepts such as multiplicity, constructivism,
difference and desire, stands at a substantial remove from the main
traditions of 20th century Continental thought. His thought locates
him as an influential figure in present-day considerations of society,
creativity and subjectivity. Notably, within his metaphysics he
favored a Spinozian concept of a plane of immanence with everything a
mode of one substance, and thus on the same level of existence. He
argued, then, that there is no good and evil, but rather only
relationships which are beneficial or harmful to the particular
individuals. This ethics influences his approach to society and
politics, especially as he was so politically active in struggles for
rights and freedoms. Later in his career he wrote some of the more
infamous texts of the period, in particular, Anti-Oedipus and A
Thousand Plateaus. These texts are collaborative works with the
radical psychoanalyst Félix Guattari, and they exhibit Deleuze's
social and political commitment.
Gilles Deleuze began his career with a number of idiosyncratic yet
rigorous historical studies of figures outside of the Continental
tradition in vogue at the time. His first book, Empirisism and
Subjectivity, isa study of Hume, interpreted by Deleuze to be a
radical subjectivist. Deleuze became known for writing about other
philosophers with new insights and different readings, interested as
he was in liberating philosophical history from the hegemony of one
perspective. He wrote on Spinoza, Nietzche, Kant, Leibniz and others,
including literary authors and works, cinema, and art. Deleuze
claimed that he did not write "about" art, literature, or cinema, but,
rather, undertook philosophical "encounters" that led him to new
concepts. As a constructivist, he was adamant that philosophers are
creators, and that each reading of philosophy, or each philosophical
encounter, ought to inspire new concepts. Additionally, according to
Deleuze and his concepts of difference, there is no identity, and in
repetition, nothing is ever the same. Rather, there is only
difference: copies are something new, everything is constantly
changing, and reality is a becoming, not a being.
1. Biography
Gilles Deleuze was born in the 17th arrondisment of Paris, a district
that, excepting periods in his youth, he lived in for the whole of his
life. He was the son of an conservative, anti-Semitic engineer, a
veteran of World War I. Deleuze's brother was arrested by Germans
during the Nazi occupation of France for alleged resistance
activities, and died on the way to Auschwitz.
Due to his families' lack of money, Deleuze was schooled at a public
school before the war. When the Germans invaded France, Deleuze was on
vacation in Normandy and spent a year being schooled there. In
Normandy, he was inspired by a teacher, under whose influence he read
Gide, Baudelaire and others, becoming for the first time interested in
his studies. In a late interview, he states that after this
experience, he never had any trouble academically. After returning to
Paris and finishing his high school education, Deleuze attended the
Lycée Henri IV, where he did his kâgne, an intensive year of study for
students of promise, in 1945, and then studied philosophy at the
Sorbonne with figures such as Jean Hippolyte and Georges Canguilheim.
He passed his agrégation in 1948, necessary for entry into the
teaching profession, and taught in a number of high schools until
1956. In this year, he also married Denise Paul "Fanny" Grandjouan, a
French translator of D.H. Lawrence. His first book, Empiricism and
Subjectivity, on David Hume, was published in 1953, when he was 28.
Over the next ten years, Deleuze held a number of assistant teaching
positions in French universities, publishing his important text on
Nietzsche (Nietzsche and Philosophy) in 1962. It was also around this
time that he met Michel Foucault, with whom he had a long and
important friendship. When Foucault died, Deleuze dedicated a
book-length study to his work (Foucault 1986). In 1968, Deleuze's
doctoral thesis, comprising of Difference and Repetition and
Expressionism in Philosophy: Spinoza were published. This was also the
period of the first major incidence of pulmonary illness that would
plague Deleuze for the rest of his life.
In 1969, Deleuze took up a teaching post at the 'experimental'
University of Paris VII, where he taught until his retirement in 1987.
In the same year, he met Félix Guattari, with whom he wrote a number
of influential texts, notably the two volumes of Capitalism and
Schizophrenia, Anti-Oedipus (1972) and A Thousand Plateaus (1980).
These texts were considered by many (including Deleuze) to be an
expression in part of the political ferment in France during May 1968.
During the seventies, Deleuze was politically active in a number of
causes, including membership in the Groupe d'information sur les
prisons (formed, with others, by Michel Foucault), and had an engaged
concern with homosexual rights and the Palestinian liberation
movement.
In the eighties, Deleuze wrote a number of books on cinema (the
influential studies The Movement-Image (1983) and The Time-Image
(1985)) and on painting (Francis Bacon (1981)). Deleuze's final
collaboration with Guattari, What is Philosophy?, was published in
1991 (Guattari died in 1992).
Deleuze's last book, a collection of essays on literature and related
philosophical questions, Essays Critical and Clinical, was published
in 1993. Deleuze's pulmonary illness, by 1993, had confined him quite
severely, even making it difficult for him to write. He took his own
life on November 4th, 1995.
2. The History Of Philosophy
Deleuze's whole intellectual trajectory can be traced by his shifting
relationship to the history of philosophy. While in later years, he
became quite critical of both the style of thought implied in narrow
reproductions of past thinkers and the institutional pressures to
think on this basis, Deleuze never lost any enthusiasm for writing
books about other philosophers, if in a new way. Most of his
publications contain the name of another philosopher as part of the
title: Hume, Kant, Spinoza, Nietzsche, Bergson, Leibniz, Foucault.
Deleuze expresses two main problems with the traditional style and
institutional location of the history of philosophy. The first
concerns a politics of the tradition:
The history of philosophy has always been the agent of power in
philosophy, and even in thought. It has played the repressors role:
how can you think without having read Plato, Descartes, Kant and
Heidegger, and so-and-so's book about them? A formidable school of
intimidation which manufactures specialists in thought – but which
also makes those who stay outside conform all the more to this
specialism which they despise. An image of thought called philosophy
has been formed historically and it effectively stops people from
thinking. (D 13)
This hegemony of thought recurrently comes under attack later in
Deleuze's career, notably in What is Philosophy? This criticism also
sits well with a general theme throughout his writings, which is the
immediate politicisation of all thought. Philosophy and its history is
not separated from the fortunes of the wider world, for Deleuze, but
intimately linked to it, and to the forces at work there.
The second criticism directed at the traditional style of history of
philosophy, the construction of specialists and expertise, leads
directly to the foremost positive aspect of Deleuze's particular
method: "What we should in fact do, is stop allowing philosophers to
reflect 'on' things. The philosopher creates, he doesn't reflect."
(N122) And this creation, with regard to other writers, takes the form
of a portrait:
The history of philosophy isn't a particularly reflective
discipline. It's rather like portraiture in painting. Producing
mental, conceptual portraits. As in painting, you have to create a
likeness, but in a different material: the likeness is something you
have to produce, rather than a way of reproducing anything (which
comes down to just repeating what a philosopher says). (N 136)
Perhaps such a method does not seem extremely creative, or perhaps
only in a relatively passive sense. For Deleuze, however, the history
of philosophy also embraces a much more active, constructive sense.
Each reading of a philosopher, an artist, a writer should be
undertaken, Deleuze tells us, in order to provide an impetus for
creating new concepts that do not pre-exist (DR vii).
Thus the works that Deleuze studies are seen by him as inspirational,
but also as a resource, from which the philosopher can gather the
concepts that seem the most useful and give them a new life, along
with the force to develop new, non-preexistent concepts.
In an important sense, Deleuze's whole modus operandi is based in this
revaluation of the role of other thinkers, and the means by which one
can use them: each of his books either centers around one philosopher,
or derives much of its texture from references to others. In any case,
new concepts are derived from others' works, or old ones are recreated
or 'awakened', and put to a new service.
a. Two examples: Kant and Leibniz
Deleuze's book on Kant, his third publication (1963) in general
conforms with the standards of an academic philosophical study. Aside
from its surprising breadth, covering as it does all three of Kant's
Critiques in a slender volume, it focuses on a problem that is clearly
of concern to both Kant himself and the traditional reading of his
work, that of the relationship between the faculties. Deleuze himself,
later reflecting on Kant's Critical Philosophy, distinguishes it from
the other, more constructivist historical studies:
My book on Kant's different; I like it, I did it as a book about
an enemy that tries to show how his system works, its various cogs –
the tribunal of Reason, the legitimate exercises of the faculties. (N
6)
There are, however, some distinctively creative elements even to this
apparently sober study, which reflect Deleuze's general interests, two
in particular. In this text on Kant, these reveal themselves by way of
emphasis, rather than out-and-out creation.
The first of these is his emphasis on Kant's rejections of
transcendentality at key points in the Critiques, in favour of a
generalised pragmatism of reason. While Deleuze himself locates in
Kant the development of the concept of the transcendental at the root
of modern philosophy (DR 135), he is quick to insist that, even as
transcendental faculties in Kant, understanding, reason and
imagination act only in an immanent fashion to achieve their own ends:
. . . the so-called transcendental method is always the
determination of an immanent employment of reason, conforming to one
of its interests. The Critique of Pure Reason thus condemns the
transcendent employment of a speculative reason which claims to
legislate by itself; the Critique of Practical Reason condemns the
transcendent employment of practical reason which, instead of
legislating by itself, lets itself be empirically conditioned. (KCP
36-7; cf. KCP 24-5; NP 91)
Deleuze, then, insists on the critical activity of Kant's philosophy
as not only a critique of reason used wrongly, but specifies this
critique in pragmatic and empiricist terms.
The second Deleuzian feature of Kant's Critical Philosophy is its
insistence on the creative and affirmative nature of the Critique of
Judgement. This runs counter not just to a number of Kant scholars,
who suggest that the third Critique is a defected work as a result of
Kant's age and decaying mental abilities when he wrote it, but also
other prominent French philosophers of Deleuze's generation, notably
Jean-Francois Lyotard and Jacques Derrida, who both consider this text
primarily in terms of its aporetic nature.
Deleuze, to the contrary, insists on its central importance to Kant's
philosophy. He argues not only that there are conflicts between the
activity of the faculties, and thus between the first two Critiques, a
moot point in reading Kant, but that the Critique of Judgement solves
this problem (already a controversial perspective) by positing a
genesis of free accord between the faculties deeper than their
conflicts. Not only are the struggles between the faculties not
insoluble: there is in fact an affirmative creation of a resolution
that does not rely upon any transcendental faculty.
When we turn to consider a much later text, The Fold: Leibniz and the
Baroque, we find Deleuze's constructivist practice of the history of
philosophy developed to its fullest. This text is not only a
"portrait" of Leibniz's thought, but uses concepts drawn from it,
along with new concepts based in a philosophical 'take' on
mathematics, art, and music, to characterise the Baroque period, and
indeed vice versa. Leibniz, Deleuze argues, is the philosopher whose
point of view can be best used to understand the Baroque period, and
Baroque architecture, music and art give us a unique and illuminating
vantage point for reading Leibniz. In fact, one of the more
astonishing claims that Deleuze makes is that the one cannot be
understood properly without the other:
It is impossible to understand the Leibnizian monad, and its
light-mirror-point of view-interior decoration system, if we do not
come to terms with these elements in Baroque architecture. (FLB 39;
translation altered)
How is such a statement to be demonstrated? Instead of claiming that
in fact there is an a priori link between Leibniz and the Baroque,
Deleuze creates a new concept, and reads both of them through it: this
is the concept of the fold. In keeping with Leibniz's theory of the
monad, that the whole universe is contained within each being, like
the Baroque church, Deleuze argues that the process of folding
constitutes the basic unit of existence. While there are elements of
the fold already in Leibniz and the architecture and art of the
period, as Deleuze points out (N 157), it gains a new consistency and
significance when used as a creative term in this manner. Throughout
the book, and later, in Foucault, Deleuze uses the concept of the fold
to describe the nature of the human subject as the outside folded in:
an immanently political, social, embedded subject.
In addition, in The Fold, we see a remarkable cross-section of
Deleuze's whole work, expressed in a new way through the material that
he analyses. Chapters 4 and 6 give a succinct formulation of the
relationship between the event and the subject (one of Deleuze's
perennial interests), which leads to a new formulation of the nature
of sufficient reason in line with Deleuze's concept of the virtual. We
also see a return to the question of the body that he examines with
Guattari in Capitalism and Schizophrenia. (FLB sec III: 'Having a
body'), which reinstates the work of Leibniz on the level of the
material, rather than in the realm of idealism.
Deleuze thus provides a reading of Leibniz that strikes the reader as
eccentric and certainly at odds with the traditional approach, and yet
which holds to both the text (in all his historical studies, Deleuze
cites quite exhaustively), and to the new direction that he is working
in.
3. A New Empiricism
In the English preface to the Dialogues, Deleuze writes the following:
I have always felt that I am an empiricist . . . [My empiricism]
is derived from the two characteristics by which Whitehead defined
empiricism: the abstract does not explain, but must itself be
explained; and the aim is not to rediscover the eternal or the
universal, but to find the conditions under which something new is
produced (creativeness). (D vii; cf. N 88; WP 7)
One can see that such a definition of empiricism differs sharply, at
least apparently, from the traditional understanding canonised by
Anglo-American histories of philosophy. Such a history would have us
believe that empiricism is above all the doctrine that whatever
knowledge that we possess is derived from the senses and the senses
alone – the well-known rejection of innate ideas. Modern views of
science embrace such a doctrine, and apply it as a tool to derive
facts about the physical world.
Deleuze's empiricism is both an extreme radicalisation and rejection
of this sense-data model: "Empiricism is by no means . . . a simple
appeal to lived experience." (DR xx; cf. PI 35). Rather, it takes a
standpoint regarding the transcendental in general. Writing of Hume,
he states that, We can now see the special ground of empiricism: . . .
nothing is ever transcendental." (ES 24) To claim that knowledge is
derived from the senses alone and not from ideas which exist in the
mind prior to experience (as is argued in a long tradition from Plato
to Descartes and beyond, lingering in the discourse of modern science)
is indeed a rejection of a certain transcendentality of the mind, but
for Deleuze, this is only the very first moment of a radical
displacement of all transcendentals that is central in all of his
work: questioning the supremacy of reason as the a priori privileged
way of relating to the world, questioning the link between freedom and
will, attempting to abolish dualisms from ontology, reinstating
politics prior to Being.
To return to the citation from the Dialogues, there are two aspects of
Deleuze's empiricist philosophy. The first is the rejection of all
transcendentals, but the second is an active element: for Deleuze,
empiricism is always about creating. In terms of philosophy, the
creation par excellence is the creation of concepts: "Empiricism is by
no means a reaction against concepts . . . On the contrary, it
undertakes the most insane creation of concepts ever." (DR xx) This
idea of philosophy as an empiricist creation of concepts, or
constructivism, is taken up again in What is Philosophy?, and is
present, as noted above, in all of his historical studies of
philosophers.
These two facets of empiricism are throughout Deleuze's work, and it
is in this sense that his claim about being such a philosopher is
clearly true. Deleuze primarily developed this point of view through
the texts he wrote prior to 1968, and particularly through three other
philosophers, who he reads as empiricists in the sense mentioned:
Hume, Spinoza and Nietzsche.
a. Hume
Deleuze's first publication, Empiricism and Subjectivity (1953) is a
book about David Hume, who is generally considered the foremost and
most rigorous British empiricist, according to the general
'sense-data' model described above. Deleuze, however, takes Hume to be
far more radical than he is normally considered to be. While this text
very carefully reads Hume's works, especially the Treatise of Human
Nature, the portrait that emerges is quite strikingly idiosyncratic.
On Deleuze's account, Hume is above all a philosopher of subjectivity.
His central concern is to establish the basis upon which the subject
is formed. All the well-known arguments about habit, causation and
miracles reveal a more profound question: if there is nothing
transcendental, how are we to understand the self-aware, creative self
who seems to govern the nature that he somehow has sprung up from?
Deleuze argues then that the relation between human nature and nature
is Hume's central concern (ES 109).
Deleuze develops this argument by asserting precisely the opposite of
the traditional reading of Hume:
According to Hume, and also Kant, the principles of knowledge are
not derived from experience. But in the case of Hume, nothing is
transcendental, because these principles are simply principles of our
nature . . . (ES 111-2)
Kant proposed transcendental operations of categories in order to make
experience possible, criticising Hume for thinking that we could have
unified knowledge of an empirical flux that we only passively receive.
On Deleuze's reading, however, Hume did not suppose that there were no
unifying processes at work, on the contrary. The difference is that
for Hume, these principles are natural; they do not rely upon the
postulation of a priori structures of experience.
The question of the subject is resolved by Hume, according to Deleuze,
by the creation of a number of key concepts: association, belief, and
the externality of relations. Association is the principle of nature
which operates by establishing a relation between two things. The
imagination is affected by this principle to create a new unity, which
can in turn be used later on to come to conclusions about other ideas
that this unity resembles, is closely related to, or seems to cause.
If we consider the traditional example of the balls on a pool table,
the process of association allows a subject to form a relation of
causality between one ball and the next, so that the next time one
ball comes into contact with another, an expectation that the second
ball will move is created.
Thus Hume, for Deleuze, considers the mind to be a system of
associations alone, a network of tendencies (ES 25): "We are habits,
nothing but habits – the habit of saying 'I'. Perhaps there is no more
striking answer to the problem of the Self." (ES x.) The mind,
affected by the natural principle of association, becomes human
nature, from the ground up:
Empirical subjectivity is constituted in the mind under the
influence of the principles affecting it; the mind therefore does not
have the characteristics of a preexisting subject. (ES 29)
These associations account not only for experience in the basic sense,
but up to the highest level of social and cultural life: this is the
basis for Hume's rejection of a social contract model of society (such
as Hobbes'), in favour of convention alone. Morals, feelings, bodily
comportment, all of these elements of subjectivity are explained, not
by transcendental structures, such as Kant will propose, but the
immanent activity of association.
Once this habitual structure of the self is in place, Deleuze
suggests, the Humean concept of belief comes into play, which is
resolutely a central part of human nature. It describes the
particularly human way of going beyond the given. When we expect the
sun to come up tomorrow, we do not do so because we know that it will,
but because of a belief based on a habit. This in turn reverses the
hierarchy of knowledge and belief, and results, for Deleuze, in a,
"great conversion of theory to practice." (PI 36) Every act of belief
is a practical application of habit, without any reference to an a
priori ability to judge. Not only is the human being thus habitual, on
Deleuze's reading, but also creative, even in the most mundane moments
of life.
Finally, Deleuze insists that one of Hume's greatest contributions to
modern philosophy is his insistence that all relations are external to
their terms: this is the essence of Hume's anti-transcendental stance.
Human nature cannot unite itself, there is no 'I' which stands before
experience, but only moments of experience themselves, unattached and
meaningless without any necessary relation to each other. A flash of
red, a movement, a gust of wind, these elements must be externally
related to each other to create the sensation of a tree in autumn. In
the social world, this externality attests to the always-already
interested nature of life: no relation is necessary, or governed by
neutral laws, so every relation has a localised and passional motive.
The ways in which habits are formed attests to the desires at the
heart of our social milieu.
Subjectivity, as Deleuze describes it through his reading of Hume, is
a practical, passional, empiricist concept, immediately located at the
heart of the conventional, which is to say the social.
b. Spinoza
While Hume may not be a contentious name to link with a deepened
empiricism, Benedict de Spinoza certainly is. Generally considered the
arch-rationalist par excellence, Spinoza is most well known for the
first main thesis proposed in his Ethics: that there is one substance,
God or Nature, and that everything that exists is merely a modulation
of this substance. His style of writing, known as the 'geometric
method', is composed by propositions, proofs, and axioms. Such a point
of view hardly seems consistent with a radical construction of
concepts, and an essential pragmatism: and yet this is what Deleuze's
interpretation of Spinoza, which has been very influential (as recent
texts such as those by Geneveive Lloyd and Moira Gatens demonstrate),
argues.
Spinoza is without a doubt the philosopher most praised and referred
to by Deleuze, often with words that are rarely a part of
philosophical writing. For example:
Spinoza is, for me, the 'prince' of philosophers. (EPS 11)
Spinoza is the Christ of philosophers, and the greatest
philosophers are hardly more than apostles who distance themselves
from or draw near to this mystery. (WP 60)
Spinoza: the absolute philosopher, whose Ethics is the foremost
book on concepts. (N 140)
Spinoza's greatness for Deleuze comes precisely from his development
of a philosophy based on the two features of empiricism discussed
above. Indeed, for Deleuze, Spinoza combines the two things into one
movement: a rejection of the transcendental in the action of creating
a plane of absolute immanence upon which all that exists situate
themselves. In more Spinozist language, we can refer to the thesis of
a single substance instead of a plane of immanence; all bodies
(beings) are modal expressions of the one substance (SPP 122).
But not only is The Ethics for Deleuze the creation of a plane of
immanence, it is the creation of a whole regime of new concepts that
revolve around the rejection of the transcendental in all spheres of
life. The unity of the ontological and the ethical is crucial, for
Deleuze, in understanding Spinoza, that is:
Spinoza didn't entitle his book Ontology, he's too shrewd for
that, he entitles it Ethics. Which is a way of saying that, whatever
the importance of my speculative propositions may be, you can only
judge them at the level of the ethics that they envelope or imply
[impliquer].
In short, as the title of one of Deleuze's books, Spinoza: Practical
Philosophy, indicates, the Ethics is only understood when it is seen,
at one and the same time, to be theoretical and practical. Deleuze
considers there to be three primary theoretico-practical points in the
Ethics:
The great theories of the Ethics . . . cannot be treated apart
from the three practical theses concerning consciousness, values and
the sad passions (SPP 28)
First of all, the illusion of consciousness. Spinoza argues that we
are not the cause of our thoughts and actions, but only assume that we
are based on their affects upon us. This leads to dualisms of
substance (such as Descartes' mind/body split). Deleuze insists on
this point because he sees Spinoza bypassing an important illusion of
subjectivity: we suppose that we are causes and not effects.
The illusion of consciousness, for Spinoza a result of inadequate
knowledge and sad affects, allows us to posit a transcendental
consciousness supposedly free from the interventions of the world (as
in Descartes). This is in fact a blind-spot which precludes us from
knowing ourselves as caused, the practical meaning of which is that we
deny our own 'sociality', as one mode amongst others, and the
significance of the relations that we enter into, which actually
determine our power to act, and our ability to experience active joy.
The second is the critique of morality. Spinoza's Ethics, for Deleuze,
constitutes a rejection of the transcendent Good/Evil distinction in
favour of a merely functional opposition between good and bad. Good
and Evil, for Spinoza as for Lucretius and Nietzsche, are the
illusions of a moralistic world-view that does nothing but reduce our
power to act and encourages the experience of the sad passions (SPP
25; LS 275-8). The Ethics is for Deleuze rather an incitement to
consider encounters between bodies on the basis of their relative
'goodness' for those modes that are relating. The shark enters into a
good relation with salt water, which increases its power to act, but
for fresh water fish, or for a rose bush, salt water only degrades the
characteristic relations between the parts of the bush and threatens
to destroy its existence.
So actions have no transcendental scale to be measured upon (the
theological illusion), but only relative and perspectival good and bad
assessments, based on specific bodies. Thus the Ethics is, for
Deleuze, an 'ethology', that is, a guide to obtaining the best
relations possible for bodies.
Finally, Deleuze sees in Spinoza the rejection of the sad passions.
This point is linked to the last, and again closely related to
Nietzsche's critique of ressentiment and slave morality. Sad passions
are for Spinoza all those forces which disparage life. For Deleuze,
Spinoza,
denounces all the falsifications of life, all the values in the
name of which we disparage life. We do not live, we only lead a
semblance of life; we can only think of how to keep from dying, and
our whole life is a death worship. (SPP 26)
The hinge that this practical reading of Spinoza turns on is Deleuze's
angle of approach to the Ethics. Rather than emphasising the great
theoretical structures found in the first few sections, Deleuze
emphasises the later part of the book (particularly part V), which
consists in arguments from the point of view of individual modes. This
approach puts the importance on the reality of individuals rather than
form, and on the practical rather than the theoretical. In the preface
to the English translation of Expressionism in Philosophy, he writes:
What interested me most in Spinoza wasn't his Substance, but the
composition of finite modes . . . That is: the hope of making
substance turn on finite modes, or at least of seeing in substance a
plane of immanence in which finite modes operate . . ." (EPS 11)
Deleuze's reading of Spinoza has clear and profound relations with all
that he wrote after 1968, especially the two volumes of Capitalism and
Schizophrenia.
c. Nietzsche
Aside from Spinoza, Nietzsche is the most important philosopher for
Deleuze. His name, and central concepts that he created appear almost
without exception in all of Deleuze's books. It would also be accurate
to say that he reads both Spinoza and Nietzsche together, one through
the other, and thus highlights the profound continuity of their
thought.
The most significant work that Deleuze did with Nietzsche was his
highly influential study Nietzsche and Philosophy, the first book in
France to systematically defend and explicate Nietzsche's work, still
suspected of fascism, after the second World War. This text was and is
extremely well regarded by other philosophers, including Jacques
Derrida (Derrida 2001), and Pierre Klossowski, who wrote the other key
French study on Nietzsche in the second half of last century
(Nietzsche and the Vicious Circle, which is dedicated to Deleuze).
While Nietzsche and Philosophy does deal with Nietzsche's polemical
targets, its originality and strength lies in its systematic
exposition of the diagnostic elements of his thought. Indeed, one
critique of this text is that it oversystematises a thinker and writer
whose style of writing overtly resists such a summary approach. For
Deleuze, however, it has been one of the hallmarks of bad readings of
Nietzsche that they have relied upon a non-philosophical reading,
either seeing him as a writer who attempts to assert other models of
thought over philosopher, or, more commonly, as an obscurantist or
(proto-) madman whose books have no coherence or value.
Nietzsche, for Deleuze, develops a symptomatology based on an analysis
of forces that is elaborate, rigorous and systematic. He argues that
Nietzsche's ontology is monist, a monism of force: "There is no
quantity of reality, all reality is already a quantity of force." (NP
40) This force, in turn, is solely a force of affirmation, since it
expresses only itself and itself to its fullest; that is, force says
'yes' to itself (NP 186). Deleuze's reading of Nietzsche starts from
this point, and accounts for the whole of Nietzsche's critical
typology of negation, sadness, reactive forces and ressentiment on
this basis. The polemical basis of Nietzsche's work, for Deleuze, is
directed at all that would separate force from acting on its own
basis, that is, from affirming itself.
There is not one force, but many, the play and interaction of which
forms the basis of existence. Deleuze argues that the many
antagonistic metaphors in Nietzsche's writing should be interpreted in
light of his pluralist ontology, and not as indications of some sort
of psychological agressivity.
Nietzsche's ontology, then, retains the suppleness and reliance on
difference while remaining monist. Thus he, for Deleuze, is
characterised as an anti-transcendental thinker.
Deleuze's reading of Nietzsche demonstrates the extent to which he
rejected the traditional, or dogmatic image of thought (see (4)(d)
below), which relies upon a natural harmony between thinker, truth and
the activity of thought. Thought does not naturally relate to truth at
all, but is rather a creative act (NP xiv), an act of affect, of force
on other forces: "As Nietzsche succeeded in making us understand,
thought is creation, not will to truth." (WP 54) There is no room for
seeing truth as abstract generality (NP 103) in Deleuze's account of
Nietzsche, but rather to see truth itself as a part of regimes of
force, as a matter of value, to be assessed and judged, rather than as
an innate disposition (NP 108).
Once again, in Nietzsche, we are confronted with the problem of
considering a philosopher who is generally considered to be quite
foreign to the tradition of empiricist thought, as an empiricist. As
with Spinoza, however, Deleuze's reading of Nietzsche, as he himself
indicates, relies upon his characterisation of empiricist thought: as
the rejection of the transcendental, both in ontology and thought, and
the consequent affirmation of thought as creativity.
Deleuze's central empiricist concepts
While Deleuze often refers to the central concepts of empiricism as
classically formulated by Hume in the Treatise (association,
habituation, convention etc.) (ES; LS 305-7; DR 70-3; WP 201-2), he
also develops, throughout his work, a number of other key concepts
which should be considered as empiricist. The most prominent of these
are immanence, constructivism, and excess.
The key word throughout Deleuze's writings, as we have seen, to be
found in almost all of his main texts without fail, is immanence. This
term refers to a philosophy based around the empirical real, the flux
of existence which has no transcendental level or inherent seperation.
His last text, published a few months before his death, bore the
title, "Immanence: a life . . ." (PI 25-33). Deleuze repeatedly
insists that philosophy can only be done well if it approaches the
immanent conditions of that which it is trying to think; this is to
say that all thought, in order to have any real force, must not work
by setting up trancendentals, but by creating movement and
consequences:
If you're talking about establishing new forms of transcendence, new
universals, restoring a reflective subject as the bearer of rights, or
setting up a communicative intersubjectivity, then it's not much of a
philosophical advance. People want to produce 'consensus', but
consensus is an ideal that guides opinion, and has nothing to do with
philosophy. (N 152; cf. 145; WP chapter 2)
Deleuze's insistence on the concept of the immanent also has an
ontological sense, as we have seen in his studies of Spinoza and
Nietzsche, and which returns later in works such as Difference and
Repetition and Capitalism and Schizophrenia: there is only one
substance, and therefore everything which exists must be considered on
the same plane, the same level, and analysed by way of their
relations, rather than by their essence.
Constructivism is the title that Deleuze uses to characterise the
movement of thought in philosophy. This has two senses. Firstly,
empiricism, immanent thought, must create movement, create concepts if
it is to be philosophy and not just opinion or consensus. Deleuze and
Guattari cite Nietzsche on this point: "[Philosophers] must no longer
accept concepts as a gift, nor merely purify or polish them, but first
make and create them, present them and make them convincing." (WP 5)
Secondly, in relation to other philosophy, Deleuze maintains that we
do not just repeat what they have already said (see (2) above):
"Empiricism . . . [analyses] the states of things, in such a way that
non-pre-existent concepts can be extracted from them." (D vii) This
constructivism, for Deleuze, holds weight in all areas of research, as
he demonstrates in his studies of literature, cinema and art (see (6)
below).
Constructivism, moreover, does not proceed along any predetermined
lines. There is nothing that is necessary to create, for Deleuze:
thought does not have a pre-given orientation (see (4)(b) below).
Empiricist thought is thus always in some sense strategic (LS 17).
The concept of excess takes the place in Deleuze's thought of the
transcendent. Instead of an object, a table for example, being
determined and given its essence by a transcendental concept or Idea
(Plato) which is directly applicable to it, or the application of a
transcendental category or schema (Kant), everything that exists is
exceeded by the forces which constitute it. The table does not have a
for-itself, but has existence within a field or territory, which are
beyond its meaning or control. Thus a table exists in a kitchen, which
is part of a three-bedroom family home, which is part of a capitalist
society. In addition, the table is used to eat on, linking itself with
the human body, and another produced, consumable item, a hamburger.
For Deleuze, one can always analyse interminably in any direction
these relations of force, which always move beyond the horizon of the
object in question.
For Deleuze, however, nothing is exceeded more than subjectivity. This
is not a statement of ontological priority, but bears on the extreme
privilege the conscious-to-self subject has had in the history of
Western thought, it is certainly here that Deleuze makes his most
significant use of the concept of excess. Consider, for example:
"Subjectivity is determined as an effect." (ES 26). "There are no
fewer things in the mind that exceed our consciousness than there are
things in the body that exceed our knowledge." (SPP 18)
The point is that human forces aren't on their own enough to establish
a dominant form in which man can install himself. Human forces (having
an understanding, a will, an imagination and so on) have to combine
with other forces: an overall form arises from this combination, but
everything depends on the nature of other forces with which the human
forces become linked. (N 117; cf. especially DR 254; 257-61)
While Deleuze protests that he never made a big deal out of rejecting
traditional postulates like the subject (N 88), he frequently writes
about the notion of the exceeded subject, from his first book on Hume
and throughout his work. This in some sense locates him in the
landscape of what is known as postmodern thought, along with other
figures such as Jacques Derrida, Jean-Francois Lyotard and Michel
Foucault.
4. Difference And Repetition
Difference and Repetition (1968) is without doubt Deleuze's most
significant book in a traditional academic style, and proposes the
most central of his disruptions to the canonical traditions of
philosophy. However, precisely for this reason, it is also one of his
most difficult books, dealing as it does with two age-old,
overdetermined philosophical topics, identity and time, and with the
nature of thought itself.
a. Difference-in-itself
Deleuze's main aim in Difference and Repetition is a creative
elaboration of these two concepts, but it essentially precedes by way
of a critique of Western philosophy. His central thesis is,
That identity not be first, that it exist as a principle but as a
second principle, as a principle become; that it revolve around the
Different: such would be the nature of a Copernican revolution which
opens up the possibility of difference having its own concept, rather
than being maintained under the domination of a concept in general
already understood as identical. (DR 41)
From Plato (DR 59-63) to Heidegger (DR 64-6), Deleuze argues,
difference has not been accepted on its own, but only after being
understood with reference to self-identical objects, which makes
difference a difference between. He attempts in this book to reverse
this situation, and to understand difference-in-itself.
We can understand Deleuze's argument by way of reference to his
analysis of Plato's three-tiered system of idea, copy and simulacrum
(cf. LS 253-65). In order to define something such as courage, we can
have reference in the end only to the Idea of Courage, an
identical-to-itself, this idea containing nothing else (DR 127).
Courageous acts and people can be thus judged by analogy with this
Idea. There are also, however, those who only imitate courageous acts,
people who use courage as a front for personal gain, for example.
These acts are not copies of the courageous ideal, but rather fakes,
distortions of the idea. They are not related to the Idea by way of
analogy, but by changing the idea itself, making it slip. Plato
frequently makes arguments based on this system, Deleuze tells us,
from the Statesman (God-shepherd, King-shepherd, charlatan) to the
Sophist (wisdom, philosopher, sophist) (DR 60-1; 126-8).
The philosophical tradition, beginning with Plato (although Deleuze
detects some ambiguity here (eg. DR 59; TP 361)) and Aristotle, has
sided with the model and the copy, and resolutely fought to exclude
the simulacra from consideration, either by rejecting it as an
external error (Descartes (DR 148)), or by assimilating it into a
higher form, via the operation of a dialectic (Hegel (DR 263)).
While difference is subordinated to the model/copy scheme, it can only
be a consideration between elements, which gives to difference a
wholly negative determination, as a not-this. However, Deleuze
suggests, if we turn our attention to the simulacra, the reign of the
identical and of analogy is destabilised. The simulacra exists in and
of itself, without grounding in or reference to a model: its existence
is "unmediated" (DR 29), it is itself unmediated difference. It is for
this reason that Deleuze makes his well-known claim that a true
philosophy of difference must be "inverted-" or "anti-Platonism" (DR
127-8): the being of simulacra is the being of difference itself; each
simulacra is its own model.
We might well ask here: what provides the unity of the different? How
can we talk about the being of something that is difference itself?
Deleuze's answer is that precisely there is no intrinsic ontological
unity. He takes up here Nietzsche's idea that being is becoming: there
is an internal self-differing within the different itself, the
different differs from itself in each case. Everything that exists
only becomes and never is.
Unity, Deleuze tells us, must be understood as a secondary operation
(DR 41) under which difference is pressed into forms. The prominent
philosophical notion he offers for such unity is time (see (4)(c)
below), but later, in Anti-Oedipus, Deleuze and Guattari offer a
political ontology that shows how this process of becoming is fixed
into unitary formulations.
b. Contra-Hegel
Deleuze's arch-enemy in Difference and Repetition is Hegel. While this
critical stance is already clearly evident in Nietzsche and Philosophy
and from there throughout his work, Deleuze's revaluation of
difference itself takes as its most essential form the rejection of
the Hegelian dialectic, which represents the most extreme development
of the logic of the identical.
The dialectic, Deleuze tells us, seems to operate with extreme
differences alone, even so far as acknowledging them as the motor of
history. Formed of two opposite terms, such as being and non-being,
the dialectic operates by synthesising them into a new third term that
preserves and overcomes the earlier opposition. Deleuze argues that
this is a dead end which makes,
identity the sufficient condition for difference to exist and be
thought. It is only in relation to the identical, as a function of the
identical, that contradiction is the greatest difference. The
intoxication and giddiness are feigned, the obscure is already
clarified from the outset. Nothing shows this more than the insipid
monocentrality of the circles in the Hegelian dialectic. (DR 263)
While offering a philosophical tool that sees difference at the heart
of being, the process of the dialectic removes this affirmation as its
most essential step.
The further consequence of this for Deleuze relates to the place of
negation in Hegel's system. The dialectic, in its general movement,
takes specific differences, differences-in-themselves, and negates
their individual being, on the way to a "superior" unity. Deleuze
argues in Difference and Repetition that this step of Hegel's mistakes
ontology, history and ethics.
"Beneath the platitude of the negative lies the world of
'disparateness'" (DR 267). There is no resolution of the
differences-in-themselves into a higher unity that does not
fundamentally misunderstand difference. Here Deleuze is clearly
recalling his Spinozist and Nietzschean ontology of a single substance
that is expressed in a multiplicity of ways (cf. DR 35-42; 269): In a
famous sentence, he writes: "A single voice raises the clamour of
being." (DR 35)
Hegel is famous for asserting that the negating dialectic is the motor
of history, proceeding towards the often-caricatured end of history
and the realisation of absolute spirit. For Deleuze, history does not
have a teleological element, a direction of realisation; this is only
an illusion of consciousness (cf. SPP 17-22):
History progresses not by negation and the negation of negation,
but by deciding problems and affirming differences. It is no less
bloody and cruel as a result. Only the shadows of history live by
negation . . . (DR 268)
Finally, regarding ethics, Deleuze argues that an ontology based on
the negative makes of ethical affirmation a secondary, derived
possibility: "The false genesis of affirmation . . .: if the truth be
told, none of this would amount to much if it was not for the moral
presuppositions and practical implications of such a distortion." (DR
268)
c. Repetition and Time
For Deleuze, the central stake in the consideration of repetition is
time. As with difference, repetition has been subjected to the law of
the identical, but also to a prior model of time: to repeat a sentence
means, traditionally, to say the same thing twice, at different
moments. These different moments must be themselves equal and
unbiased, as if time were a flat, featureless expanse. So repetition
has essentially been considered as the traditional idea of difference
over time understood in a common-sense way, as a succession of
moments. Deleuze asks if, given a renovated understanding of
difference as in-itself, we are able to reconsider repetition also.
But there is also an imperative here, since, if we are to consider
difference-in-itself over time, based in the traditional logic of
repetition, we once again reach the point of identity. As such,
Deleuze's critique of identity must revaluate the question of time.
Deleuze's argument proceeds through three models of time, and relates
the concept of repetition to each of them.
The first is time as a circle. Circular time is mythical and seasonal
time, the repetition of the same after time has passed through its
cardinal points. These points may be simple natural repetitions, like
the sun rising daily, the movement of summer to spring, or the
elements of tragedy, which Deleuze suggests operate cyclically. There
is a sense of both destiny and theology in the concept of time as a
circle, as a succession of instants which are governed by an external
law.
When time is considered in this fashion, Deleuze argues (DR 70-9),
repetition is solely concerned with habit. The subject experiences the
passing of moments cyclically (the sun will come up every morning),
and contracts habits which make sense of time as a continually living
present. Habit is thus the passive synthesis of moments that creates a
subject.
The second model of time is linked by Deleuze to Kant (KCP vii-viii),
and it constitutes one of the central ruptures that the Kantian
philosophy creates in thought, for Deleuze: this is time as a straight
line. In the Critique of Pure Reason, Kant liberates time from the
circular model by proposing it as a form that is imposed upon sensory
experience. For Deleuze, this reverses the earlier situation by
placing events into time (as a line), rather than seeing the chain of
events constituting time by the passing of present moments.
Habit can thus no longer have any power, since in this model of time,
nothing returns. In order for sense to be made of what has occurred,
there must be an active process of synthesis, which makes of the past
instances a meaning (DR 81). Deleuze calls this second synthesis
memory. Unlike habit, memory does not relate to a present, but to a
past which has never been present, since it synthesises from passing
moments a form in-itself of things which never existed before the
operation. The novels of Marcel Proust are for Deleuze the most
profound development of memory as the pure past, or in Proust's
terminology, as time regained. (DR 122; PS passim)
In this second model of time, repetition thus has an active sense in
line with the synthesis, since it repeats something, in the memory,
that did not exist before – this does not save it, however, from being
an operation of identity, nonetheless. These two moments, the active
constitution of a pure past, and the disparate experience of a present
yet to be synthesised produces a further consequence for Deleuze: as
in Kant, a radical splitting of the subject into two elements, the I
of memory, which is only a process of synthesis, and a self of
experience, an ego which undergoes experience. (DR 85-7; KCP viii-ix)
Deleuze insists that both of these models of time press repetition
into the service of the identical, and make it a secondary process
with regards to time. The final model of time that Deleuze proposes
attempts to make repetition itself the form of time.
In order to do this, Deleuze relates the concepts of difference and
repetition to each other. If difference is the essence of that which
exists, constituting beings as disparates, then neither of the first
two models of time does justice to them, insisting as they do on the
possibility and even necessity of synthesising differences into
identities. It is only when beings are repeated as something other
that their disparateness is revealed. Consequently, repetition cannot
be understood as a repetition of the same, and becomes liberated from
subjugation under the demands of traditional philosophy.
To give body to the conception of repetition as the pure form of time,
Deleuze turns to the Nietzschean concept of the eternal return. This
difficult concept is always given a forceful and careful qualification
by Deleuze whenever he writes about it (eg. DR 6;41; 242; PI 88-9; NP
94-100): that it must not be considered as the movement of a cycle, as
the return of the identical. As a form of time, the eternal return is
not the circle of habit, even on the cosmic level. This would only
allow the return of something that already existed, of the same, and
would result again in the suppression of difference through an
inadequate concept of repetition.
While habit returned the same in each instance, and memory dealt with
the creation of identity in order to allow experience to be
remembered, the eternal return is, for Deleuze, only the repetition of
that which differs-from-itself, or, in Nietzsche's terminology, only
the repetition of those beings whose being is becoming: "The subject
of the eternal return is not the same but the different, not the
similar but the dissimilar, not the one but the many . . ." (DR 126)
As such, Deleuze tells us, repetition as the third meaning of time
takes the form of the eternal return. Everything that exists as a
unity will not return, only that which differs-from-itself.
"Difference inhabits repetition." (DR 76). So, while habit was the
time of the present, and memory the being of the past, repetition as
the eternal return is the time of the future.
The superiority of this third understanding of repetition as time has
two main impetuses in Deleuze's argument. The first is obviously that
it keeps difference intact in its movement of differing-from-itself.
The second is as significant, if for different reasons. If only what
differs returns, then the eternal return operates selectively (DR 126;
PI 88-9), and this selection is an affirmation of difference, rather
than an activity of representation and unification based on the
negative, as in Hegel.
d. The Image of Thought
Chapter three of Difference and Repetition provides a novel approach
to an important question in philosophy, the problem of
presuppositions. Deleuze pursues this topic again later in A Thousand
Plateaus (374-80), and when he writes about conceptual personae in
What is Philosophy? (ch. 3); he had already written on images of
thought in Nietzsche and Philosophy (103-10) and Proust and Signs
(94-102).
An example is Descartes' celebrated phrase at the beginning of the
Discourse on the Method:
Good sense is the most evenly shared thing in the world . . the
capacity to judge correctly and to distinguish the true from the
false, which is properly what one calls common sense or reason, is
naturally equal in all men . .
For Descartes, thought has a natural orientation towards truth, just
as for Plato, the intellect is naturally drawn towards reason and
recollects the true nature of that which exists. This, for Deleuze, is
an image of thought.
Although images of thought take the common form of an 'Everybody knows
. . .' (DR 130), they are not essentially conscious. Rather, they
operate on the level of the social and the unconscious, and function,
"all the more effectively in silence." (DR 167)
Deleuze undertakes a thorough analysis of the traditional
philosophical image of thought, and lists eight features which, in all
aspects of philosophical pursuit, imply a subordination of thought to
externally imposed directives. He includes the good nature of thought,
the priority of the model or recognition as the means of thought, the
sovereignty of representation over supposed elements in nature and
thought, and the subordination of culture to method (or learning to
knowledge). These all imply an a priori nature of thought, a telos, a
meaning and a logic of practice. These features,
crush thought under an image which is that of the Same and the
Similar in representation, but profoundly betrays what it means to
think and alienates the two powers of difference and repetition, of
philosophical commencement and recommencement. (DR167)
It is this element, in Difference and Repetition, that founds
Deleuze's most serious criticism of the traditional image of thought:
that it fails to come to terms with the true nature of difference and
repetition. As a result, it is fair to say that this moment of the
book is essential for understanding the way in which Deleuze both
wants to base his assessment of traditional philosophies of identity
and time, and how he wishes to exceed them: his reformulation of
difference and repetition is made possible by this critique (cf. N
149).
The other critical angle Deleuze supplies here is related to the
first, and derives from Nietzsche's critique of Western thought:
When Nietzsche questions the most general presuppositions of
philosophy, he says that these are essentially moral, since Morality
alone is capable of convincing us that thought has a good nature and
the thinker a good will, and that only the good can ground the
supposed affinity between thought and the True. (DR132; cf. LS 3)
As we saw above regarding Hegel, the real point of concern is that
this image of thought is in the service of practical, political and
moral forces, it is not simply a matter of philosophy, in segregation
from the rest of the world.
To the question 'why do we have this image of thought?' Deleuze, along
with Nietzsche, that it is a moral image, and is in the service of
power, but there is also a more intrinsic problem with thinking
itself, that is only fully developed in the Conclusion to What is
Philosophy?, and this is that thought itself is dangerous.
In contradistinction to the natural goodness of thought in the
traditional image, Deleuze argues for thought as an encounter:
"Something in the world forces us to think." (DR 139) These encounters
confront us with the impotence of thought itself (DR 147), and evoke
the need of thought to create in order to cope with the violence and
force of these encounters. The traditional image of thought has
developed, just as Nietzsche argues about the development of morality
in The Genealogy of Morals, as a reaction to the threat that these
encounters offer. We can consider the traditional image of thought,
then, precisely as a symptom of the repression of this violence.
As a result, the relationship of philosophy to thought must have two
correlative aspects, Deleuze argues:
an attack on the traditional moral image of thought, but also a
movement towards understanding thought as self-engendering, an act of
creation, not just of what is thought, but of thought itself, within
thought (DR 147).
This is true, dangerous thought, but the sole thought capable of
approaching difference-in-itself and complex repetition: thought
without an image. .
The thought which is born in thought, the act of thinking which is
neither given by innateness nor presupposed by reminiscence but
engendered in its genitality, is a thought without image. But what is
such a thought, and how does it operate in the world? (DR 167; cf.
132)
This final question directs us towards the central aim of the two
texts of Capitalism and Schizophrenia.
5. Capitalism And Schizophrenia – Deleuze And Guattari
The collaborative texts of Deleuze and Felix Guattari, particularly
the two volumes of Capitalism and Schizophrenia, are outside of the
scope of the current article (see the Deleuze and Guattari entry in
this encyclopaedia, forthcoming). However, two brief points are
important to note.
First, that despite the wide notoriety of these works as obscurantist
and non-philosophical, they bear a profound relation to Deleuze's
philosophical enterprise in general, and develop in new ways many of
his concerns: a commitment to an immanent ontology, the importance of
the social and the political to the very heart of being, and the
affirmation of difference over the transcendental hierarchy in every
aspect of this work.
Secondly, the manner in which these texts are written by the two
writers, between the two and not seperately, means that many new
elements emerge that cannot be drawn from their work individually. As
such, regarding Deleuze, many of the central ideas cited above do
undergo an interesting and novel transformation into a new direction:
the very type of relationship characterised in Capitalism and
Schizophrenia as a becoming.
6. Literature, Cinema, Painting
Deleuze's work on the arts, he never ceases to remind the reader, are
not to be understood as literary criticism, film or art theory.
Talking of the 1980's, during which he wrote almost exclusively on the
arts, he states the following:
let's suppose that there's a third period when I worked on
painting and cinema: images on the face of it. But I was writing
philosophy. (N 137)
This accords with the aims of Deleuze's empiricism (see (3) above), to
understand philosophy as an encounter (with a work, philosophical or
artistic, an object, a person) out of which "non-pre-existent
concepts," (DR vii) can be created. Regarding his books on cinema, he
is even more explicit:
Film criticism faces twin dangers: it shouldn't just describe
films but nor should it apply to them concepts taken from outside
film. The job of criticism is to form concepts that aren't of course
'given' in films but nonetheless relate specifically to cinema, and to
some specific genre of film, to some specific film or other. Concepts
specific to cinema, but which can only be formed philosophically. (N
58; C2 280)
All of Deleuze's work on artists can be assembled under the rubric of
the creation of new philosophical concepts that relate specifically to
the work at hand, yet which also link these works with others more
generally. Not a philosophy of the arts per se, but a philosophical
encounter with specific artistic works and forms.
One feature that the artistic works also contain, distinct from many
of Deleuze's other books, is a concern with a taxonomy of signs. In
Proust and Signs, Francis Bacon, and the Cinema books, Deleuze
attempts to develop a systematic approach of classifying different
signs. These signs are not linguistic (C1 ix), since they are not
themselves elements of a system, but rather are types of emissions
from a work. Proust, for example, on Deleuze's account, understands
experience itself as a reception of signs by a proto-subject which
must be understood properly, just as the large variety of images
discussed in Cinema 1 and 2 are categorised by Deleuze on the basis of
C.S. Pierce's semiotics.
Deleuze often comes to consider the questions 'what is the nature of
the artist, and of art?' Aside from his specific elaborations of these
questions in What is Philosophy?, he is concerned to emphasise the
radically active creative nature of art and artists in his work in
general. This characterisation goes far beyond the general
consideration of artists as 'creative people', and highlights the
manner in which art is itself a creation of movement, not of
representations: that is, something radically new, an affect, a
movement of force or desire (cf. PS xi.,187 n1).
While the dominant Western tradition, from Plato to Heidegger, places
art in a relationship to truth, Deleuze insists in every case on a
Nietzschean argument (NP 102-3), that the work of art only has
relations with forces, and that truth is a derivative, secondary
formation: art is active.
In another register, Deleuze suggests that artists are themselves
created, within thought, and must be cultured and afflicted by forces
which exceed them to develop to the point of creativity (NP 103-9; cf.
(4)(d) above). These forces, in turn, account for the frequent frailty
of artists and thinkers. While the work of art sets to work forces of
life, the artist themselves has experienced "too much", and this
wearies and sickens them (D 18; C2 189).
Deleuze's insistences that the artist is above all someone who creates
new ways of being and perceiving increases in frequency and strength
throughout the course of his texts on art and artists.
a. Literature
Deleuze wrote extensively on literature throughout his career. Aside
from dedicating whole works to Proust (Proust and Signs 1964), Leopold
von Sacher-Masoch ("Coldness and Cruelty"1969), and Kafka (Kafka:
Towards a Minor Literature 1975), and a large portion of The Logic of
Sense to Lewis Carroll, he also dealt in some detail with a wide range
of figures such as F. Scott Fizgerald, Herman Melville, Samuel
Beckett, Antonin Artaud, Heinrich von Kleist, and Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
i. Marcel Proust
It is quite easy, if one wishes to attach a philosophical point of
view to Marcel Proust's work, to see it as a phenomenology of memory
and perception, in which his famous text In Search of Lost Time would
be oriented towards an understanding of what underlies and gives
substance to experience and memory.
In essence, Deleuze proposes the opposite of the phenomenological
method. He reads Proust's work as an anti-logos, that supposes, rather
than a transcendental ego which is the necessary feature of all
experience, a passive, receptive subject at the mercy of the signs and
symptoms of the world.
For what does in fact take place in In Search of Lost Time, one and
the same story with infinite variations? It is clear that the narrator
sees nothing, hears nothing . . like a spider poised in its web,
observing nothing, but responding to the slightest sign . . . (AO 68)
Rather than memory, the central question of the Search, being based
within the subject, and as the product of certain transcendental
operations, it is a creation of something which did not exist before
by way of an original, each-time unique, style of interpretation for
experiences (PS 101). Deleuze uses the term 'anti-logos' on the
grounds that Proust, as he argues, refuses the representational model
of experience central to Western philosophy:
Everywhere Proust contrasts the world of signs and symptoms with the
world of attributes, the world of hieroglyphs and ideograms with the
world of analytic expression, phonetic writing, and rational thought.
What is constantly impugned are the great themes inherited from the
Greeks: philos, sophia, dialogue, logos, phone. (PS 108)
In contrast, Deleuze characterises the Search as a recasting of
thought: thought is creative and not reminiscent (Platonic and
phenomenological).
ii. Leopold von Sacher-masoch
Masoch features in a few of Deleuze's books (K 66-7; D 119-23), but
most significantly in his long study "Coldness and Cruelty". This
early text is a critique of the unity of the clinical and aesthetic
notion "sado-masochism".
Deleuze argues here that this clinical concept fails to account for
the actual writings of the Maquis de Sade and Sacher-masoch, along
with making an unjustified unity from a two quite distinct groups of
symptoms.
Masoch is considered by Deleuze to be an important writer of unusual
power, and a master of suspense, the key literary element of
masochism. However, while de Sade has become well-known, and his
writings analysed, Deleuze suggests that our poor understanding of
Masoch's texts is one of the main culprits in making the confused
unity that is sadomasochism. In fact, according to Deleuze, he offers
us a new way of understanding existence by displacing sexuality into
the world of power (M 12). Thus, Deleuze tells us, Masoch was in fact,
"a great anthropologist." (M 16)
Point by point, Deleuze develops a reading of the two writers, Masoch
in particular, that shows their profound disparity. Alongside this is
an analysis of the psychiatric categories of sadism and masochism that
reveals the same lack of common ground.
Sadomasochism is one of these misbegotten names, a semiological
howler. We found in every case that what appeared to be a common
'sign' linking the two perversions together turned out on
investigation to be in the nature of a mere syndrome which could be
further broken down into irreducibly specific symptoms of the one or
the other perversion. (M 134)
In "Coldness and Cruelty", Deleuze also elaborates a critique of Freud
that points in the direction of Anti-Oedipus, although clearly more
limited in scope.
iii. Franz Kafka
Kafka: towards a minor literature can be distinguished from Deleuze's
other texts on literature in that it was written with Guattari, and it
strongly bears the stamp of Anti-Oedipus, published just three years
earlier, and the concepts utilised there. In many ways, it can be read
as a development of the same themes in regard to Kafka's work.
This text is a marked departure from all of the dominant
interpretations of Kafka's writing, which is generally considered
either psychoanalytically (as a projection of interior guilt onto the
world through writing) or mythically, that is, as a reserve of symbols
and closely related to negative theology and Jewish mysticism. Deleuze
and Guattari consider Kafka as a proponent of a joyful science, of
writing as a way of creating a line of flight or freedom from the
forms of domination. They write:
The three worst themes in many interpretations of Kafka are the
transcendence of the law, the interiority of guilt, the subjectivity
of enunciation. (K 45)
In contrast, Deleuze and Guattari read Kafka as a proponent of the
immanence of desire. The law is no more than a secondary configuration
that traps desire into certain formations: bureaucracy, of course, is
the main example in Kafka's work, where offices, secretaries, lawyers
and bankers present figures of entrapment.
They also see Kafka as directly targeting the Oedipus complex, the
triangle of "daddy-mommy-me":
the too-well formed family triangle is really only a conduit for
investments of an entirely different sort that the child endlessly
discovers underneath his father, inside his mother, in himself. The
judges, commissioners, bureaucrats, and so on, are not substitutes for
the father; rather, it is the father who is a condensation of all
these forces that he submits to and that he tries to get his son to
submit to. (K 11-2)
Thus, for Kafka, according to Deleuze and Guattari, the family are a
socially derived unit that works by trapping the flow of desire. The
interiority of guilt is replaced by the exteriority of subjugation.
This is best demonstrated in the analysis of Kafka's famous short
story, The Metamorphosis (K 14-5).
They also wish to read Kafka, not as a writer of genius, who expresses
the superior insight of his inner sight, but as a writer of minor
literature. This is the key concept of Deleuze and Guattari's reading
of Kafka. Minor literature is a writing that takes a dominant language
(German, in Kafka's case, French in Beckett's, and so forth), and
pushes it until it becomes a language of force, and not of
signification (K 19). In turn, this connects immediately with the
situation of minorities, minority groups in the first instance, but
also the attempts that everyone makes to create a line of flight
outside of majoritarian or molar social formations.
As such, minor literature is an immediately political writing (K 17),
which connects the text immediately to (micro-) political struggle.
Thus the third substitution is the collective, that is, political,
nature of enunciation, for the traditional model of the subjective
intent behind the author's words. Kafka, for Deleuze and Guattari,
writes as a node in a field of forces, rather than a Cartesian cogito,
sovereign in the castle of consciousness. "The superiority of
Anglo-american literature"
One clear feature of Deleuze's relationship to literature is his
outspoken appreciation for what he calls Anglo-American literature,
and its superiority over the literature of Europe.
What we find in great English and American novelists is a gift,
rare among the French, for intensities, flows, machine-books,
tool-books, schizo-books. (N 23)
The great European tradition in literature is analogous for Deleuze to
traditional philosophy: it always revolves around a relationship to
truth, the preservation of some kind of social status quo, the
sovereignty of the author over the text; as Deleuze states, "everybody
says "cogito" in the French novel."
The strength of Anglo-american literature for Deleuze is rather that
it rejects the idea of the book as a representation of reality, and
all of the adjacent problems with the dogmatic image of literature,
and presents the book as a machine, as something which does things,
rather than signifying.
b. Cinema
Part of the reason for the impact of Deleuze's writings on cinema is
simply that he is the first important philosopher to have devoted such
detailed attention to it. Of course, many philosophers have written
about movies, but Deleuze offers an analysis of the cinema itself as
an artistic form, and develops a number of connections between it and
other philosophical work.
Deleuze's first book is entitled Cinema 1: The Movement-Image. It
deals with cinema from its development through to the second World
War. For Deleuze, the cinema as an art form is quite unique, and deals
with its subject matter in ways that no other form of art is capable
of, particularly as a way of relating to the experience of space and
time.
Deleuze's analysis begins by coming to new understandings of the
concepts of the image and movement. The image, above all, is not a
representation of something, that is, a linguistic sign. This
definition relies upon the age-old Platonic distinction between form
and matter, in its modern Saussurean form of signifier-signified.
Rather, Deleuze wants to collapse these two orders into one, and the
image thus becomes expressive and affective: not an image of a body,
but the body as image (C1 58).
This collapse comes about with reference to two philosophers, Henri
Bergson and Charles Sanders Pierce. Deleuze dedicated a book-length
study to the former entitled Bergsonism (1968), and his use of his
notions of movement and time in the Cinema texts is already presaged
by this text. Movement for Bergson, Deleuze argues, is not separable
from the object which moves: they are literally the same thing. Thus,
no representative relationship can be established without artificially
halting the flow of movement and thus misconstruing the frozen
'element' as self-sufficient. There is only the flow of movement which
expresses itself in different ways. Among other things, this is one of
Deleuze's critiques of phenomenology (C1 56, 60). Thus the early
cinema is characterised for Deleuze by the reign of what he calls the
sensory-motor schema. This schema is the unity of the viewed and the
eye that views in dynamic movement.
This model of the movement-image is precisely the nature of cinema,
for Deleuze. It does not falsify movement by extracting segments and
stringing them together in a representative fashion, but creates a
wide range of expressive images. It is in order to come to terms with
the varieties of movement-images that Deleuze turns to Pierce, who
developed, "the most extraordinary classifications of images and signs
. . ." (C2 30). The main part of Cinema 1 is thus devoted to using,
with some alterations, Pierce's semiotic classifications to describe
the use of movement-images in cinema, and their centrality before the
second World War.
The movement from the first text to Cinema 2: The Time-Image has a
significance closely related to Kant's so-called Copernican revolution
in philosophy. Up until Kant, time was subject to the events that took
place within it, time was a time of seasons and habitual repetition
(see (3)(c) above); it was not able to be considered on its own, but
as a measure of movement (C2 34-5; KCP iv.). One element of Kant's
achievement for Deleuze, as we have seen, is his reversal of the
time-movement relationship: he establishes time itself as an element
to which movement must be subordinated, a pure time.
In the cinema, Deleuze argues, a similar reversal takes place. The
historico-cultural reason behind this reversal is the event of World
War two itself. With the great truths of Western culture put so deeply
in question by the before unimaginable methods employed and their
forthcoming results, the sensory-motor apparatus of the movement-image
are made to tremble before the unbearable, the too-much of life's
possibilities, the potential of the present (C2 35). No longer could
the dogmatic truths that had guided society, and cinema to an extent,
allow the apparently 'natural' movement from one thing to the next in
an habitual fashion: 'natural' links precisely lost their efficacy.
And with the use of unnatural or false links, which do not follow the
sequence or narrative affect of the movement-image, time itself, the
time-image, is manifested in cinema (Deleuze considers Orson Welles to
be the first auteur to make use of the time-image (C2 137)). Rather
than finding time as an, "indirect representation," (C2 35-6), the
viewer experiences the movement of time itself, which images, scenes,
plots and characters presuppose or manifest in order to gain any sort
of movement whatsoever.
Along with this 'external' reason, there is also for Deleuze a
motivation within cinema itself to go from the movement-image to the
time-image. The movement image has the tendency, thanks to the
habitual experience of movement as normal and centered, to justify
itself in relation to truth: as Deleuze argues with regard to the
dogmatic image of thought (see (3)(d) above), there is the
presupposition that thought naturally moves towards truth. Of course,
Deleuze suggests, cinema, when truly creative, never relied upon this
presupposition, and yet, "the movement-image, in its very essence, is
answerable to the effect of truth which it invokes while movement
preserves its centres." (C2 142). In questioning its own
presuppositions, Deleuze argues, cinema moved towards a new,
different, way of understanding movement itself, as subordinate to
time.
This in turn leads Deleuze to abandon Pierce's semiotics to a large
degree, since it has no room for the time-image (C2 33-4ff.), and
replaces him with Nietzsche. As we have seen in our consideration of
time in Difference and Repetition (see (3)(c) above), Nietzsche is the
philosopher who Deleuze considers to have made the crucial move with
regard to time, surpassing even Kant.
One of the central consequences for cinema that this move from
movement-image to time-image makes again highlights one of Deleuze's
central concerns, to establish an ontology and a semiology of force:
"What remains? There remain bodies, which are forces, nothing but
forces." (C2 139) Since the cinema of the time-image is concerned to
liberate images from carrying or implying time in order to form
narrative (no less than liberating time itself from narrative), images
are themselves free now to express forces, "shocks of force," (C2
139). Scenes, movements and language become expressive rather than
representative.
c. Painting
Deleuze's central work in the visual arts is his monograph Francis
Bacon: logique de la sensation (the logic of sensation), but he also
engages with a large number of other figures in various texts (eg. TP
492-500; WP ch.7), such as Turner (AO 132), Van Gogh, Klee, Kandinsky
and Cezanne.
Deleuze's book on Francis Bacon, as the title suggests, is an attempt
to construct a logic of sensations from the artist's work (FB 7). This
task is largely a taxonomic one. Deleuze develops, throughout the
book, a number of key categorial notions and new concepts that allow
him to move away from the standard representational view of painting,
towards a painting of force, that presents force and creates affects
(sensations) rather than representing or describing a scene. Three
central ideas are at work.
The first is an elaboration of the concept of Figure. For Deleuze,
while the idea of figuration in painting has largely been
representational, he sees Bacon, and to some extent Cezanne before him
(FB 40, 76), collapsing the Figure into the world of forces, placing
it in a new relation to force. Thus Bacon's cries, for which he is
famous, place the figure in the presence of force: ". . . painting
will place the visible cry, the mouth which cries, into a relation
with force." (FB 41). For Deleuze the cry expresses an extreme moment
of life, rather than suffering or horror. As with Kafka, Deleuze takes
Bacon's artistic work, is commonly considered very dark and
nihilistic, and considers it as a true sign of life, and of struggle
with death.
The second, a refrain familiar from all of his work, relates to a
notion of force that makes it ontologically and artistically
fundamental rather than politically oppressive, much as desire is
reconfigured in Capitalism and Schizophrenia. It is in fact this move
that allows Deleuze's general 'positivism' towards Bacon, as we have
just seen: "Everything . . . is in relation with forces, everything is
force." (FB 40) In Francis Bacon, Deleuze thus creates the notion of
'color-force', in order to understand how color can be expressive of
force rather than representative (FB 94-7).
Finally, Deleuze draws on the difference between Western,
representational models of vision, and the haptic style of Egyptian
art, in which he sees a development of a mode of writing/drawing which
resists being hypostased into the content/form duality common to
philosophical understandings of art.
7. What Is Philosophy?
We have already seen the significance of empiricism for Deleuze's
philosophy ((3) above). Throughout his work, however, Deleuze gives a
number of further formulations concerning the aim and nature of
philosophy. These can be understood in two phases, an early critical
naturalism and a later vitalist constructivism.
Early reflections – Naturalism
In his early works in the history of philosophy, culminating with The
Logic of Sense, Deleuze expresses an essentially critical model of
philosophy. In his book on Nietzsche, he writes:
When someone asks 'what's the use of philosophy?' the reply must
be aggressive, since the question tries to be ironic and caustic.
Philosophy does not serve the State or the Church, who have other
concerns. It serves no established power. The use of philosophy is to
sadden. A philosophy which saddens no one, that annoys no one, is not
a philosophy. It is useful for harming stupidity, for turning
stupidity into something shameful. Its only use is the exposure of all
forms of baseness of thought. . . . Philosophy is at its most positive
as a critique, as an enterprise of demystification. (NP 106)
It seems that this is the sole moment in Deleuze's published work
where he uses the term 'sadden' in a positive manner, as something
desirable, and this is an indication of the strength by which he
considers philosophy, in this early sense, as an exercise in
naturalism in the sense that Lucretius uses this term, that is, as an
attack on all forms of mystification. Commenting on Lucretius, Deleuze
makes the following, extremely similar, remark:
The speculative object and the practical object of philosophy as
Naturalism, science and pleasure, coincide on this point: it is always
a matter of denouncing the illusion, the false infinite, the infinity
of religion and all of the theologico-erotic-oneiric myths in which it
is expressed. To the question 'what is the use of philosophy?' the
answer must be: what other object would have an interest in holding
forth the image of a free man, and in denouncing all of the forces
which need myth and troubled spirit in order to establish their power?
(LS 278)
Deleuze's philosophical naturalism is thus critical, Spinozist and
Nietzschean: it sets as the aim of philosophy the attack of all that
belittles life: the sad passions of Spinoza, the passive and reactive
forces of Nietzsche, and mythology, in Lucretian terms. Naturalism
must not here be understood as opposed to a cosmopolitanism, or
constructivism, Deleuze tells us. Rather, "Naturalism . . . directs
its attack against the prestige of the negative; it deprives the
negative of all of its power; it refuses the spirit of the negative
the right to speak in the name of philosophy." (LS 279)
Mythology, in the sense of these texts, is the eternal danger for the
operation of thought. Deleuze summarises this immanent threat within
thought (cf. (4)(d) above) as the threat of stupidity:
Philosophy could have taken up the problem with its own means and
with the necessary modesty, by considering the fact that stupidity is
never that of others but the object of a properly transcendental
question: how is stupidity [...] possible? (DR 151)
"What is Philosophy?" – constructivism
From Difference and Repetition onwards, Deleuze, while maintaining
this critical aspect for philosophy, develops a thorough-going
constructivist view which manifests itself in the final collaboration
between Deleuze and Guattari, What is Philosophy? This text involves
arguments about three central notions: the creation of concepts, the
presuppositions of philosophy, and the relations between philosophy,
science and art.
As we have seen, a certain doctrine of empiricist constructivism runs
through Deleuze's work from the beginning, and on a number of levels.
In What is Philosophy? this becomes the central and explicit theme:
"philosophy is the art of forming, inventing, and fabricating
concepts". (WP 2)
The philosopher's only business is concepts, Deleuze and Guattari tell
us, and the concept belongs only to philosophy (WP 34). This is
already clear when we consider Deleuze's writings on the arts, which
he considers to be philosophical (see (6) above).
The fortunes of the concept, due to lack of attention by philosophers,
have fallen, to the point at which even marketing has taken hold of
it, in, "the general movement that replaced Critique with sales
promotion." (WP 10) However, Deleuze and Guattari insist, philosophy
still only has meaning vis a vis the concept.
A concept is distinctly featured. It is a multiplicity, not in itself
a single thing, but an assemblage of components which must retain
coherence with the others for the concept to remain itself (in this
sense, it closely resembles the Spinozist body). These components are
singularities: "'a' possible world, 'a' face, 'some' words . . ." (WP
20), and yet become indiscernible when a part of a concept. Each
concept also has a relationship to other concepts by way of the
similar problems that they address, and by having similar component
elements, and Deleuze and Guattari describe their relations by the use
of the term vibration (WP 23).
Above all, however, the concept must not be confused with the
proposition, as in logic (WP 135 ff.), which is to say that it is
agrammatical. There is no necessary relation between concepts, nor is
there any given way of relating. The logical functions of either/or,
both/and and so forth, do not do justice to the each-time created
nature of conceptual relations. Neither does the concept have a
reference, in the way that a proposition does. Rather, it is intensive
and expresses the virtual existence of an event in thought: consider
Descartes' famous cogito, which expresses the virtual individual in
relation to themselves and the world.
Finally, a concept has no relationship to truth, which is an external
determination, or presupposition, that places thought at the service
of the dogmatic image of thought: "The concept is a form or a force"
(WP 144). As such, concepts act, they are affective, rather than
significatory, or expressive of the contents of ideas.
The question of presuppositions, already dealt with via the concept of
the image of thought (see (4)(d) above), is examined in much greater
depth by Deleuze and Guattari in What is Philosophy? Indeed, their
answer involves two new concepts, the conceptual personae, and the
plane of immanence.
Conceptual personae (WP ch. 3) are the figures of thought that give
concepts their specific force, their raison d'être. They are to be
confused with neither psycho-social types (WP 67), nor with the
philosophers themselves (WP 64), but are like concepts created.
Deleuze and Guattari argue that conceptual personae, while often only
implicit in philosophy, are decisive for understanding the
significance of concepts. To take again Descartes' cogito, the
implicit conceptual persona is the idiot, the regular person,
uneducated, untrained in philosophy, potentially betrayed by their
senses at every turn, and yet, able to have perfectly clear and
distinct knowledge of themselves, through the certainty of the 'I
think, therefore I am'. Also mentioned are Nietzsche's famous
personae, both sympathetic and anti-pathetic: Zarathustra, the last
man, Dionysus, the Crucified, Socrates, and so forth. (WP 64)
Conceptual personae are, for Deleuze and Guattari, internal,
non-philosophical preconditions for the practice of creating concepts.
These personae, in turn, are related to the plane of immanence. This
concept has clear and significant resonances with other important
elements of Deleuze's thought, above all with his monist ontology of
forces, and with his practical emphasis on Nietzsche and Spinoza's
ethics as non-transcendental.
The plane of immanence (WP ch. 2) in thought is opposed to the
transcendent in traditional philosophy. Each time that a transcendent
is raised (Descartes' cogito, Plato's ideas, Kant's categories),
thought is arrested, and philosophy is placed at the service of
dominant ideas. For Deleuze and Guattari, all of these instances of
the transcendental stem from the same problem: insisting that
immanence be immanent to "something". (WP 44-5)
For thought to exist, for concepts to be formed and then given body
through conceptual personae, they must operate immanently, without the
rule of a "Something" that organises or stratifies the plane of
immanence. Concepts exist on the plane of immanence, and each
philosopher, Deleuze and Guattari tell us, must create such a plane.
The other main concern of What is Philosophy? is to come to an
understanding of the relations between philosophy, art and science
respectively. Deleuze and Guattari argue that each discipline involves
the activity of thought, and that in each case it is a matter of
creation. What differs is the sphere of creation and the manner in
which it is populated.
Art is concerned with the creation of percepts and affects (WP 164),
which are together sensation. Percepts are not perceptions, in that
they do not refer to a perceiver, and neither are affects the feelings
or affections of someone. Just as we saw with concepts, affects and
percepts are independent beings which exist outside of the experience
of a thinker, and have no reference to a state of affairs. Deleuze and
Guattari write: "The work of art is a being of sensation and nothing
else: it exists in itself." (WP 164) The correlate of the conceptual
persona in art is the figure (which is investigated in great depth in
Deleuze's text on Bacon, see (6)(c) above), and for the plane of
immanence, art is created on the plane of composition, which is
likewise immanent only to itself, and populated with the pure forces
of percepts and affects (WP 196).
The situation with science is similar. Science is the activity of
thought that creates functions. These functions, in contrast to
concepts, are propositional (WP 117), and form the fragments from
which science is able to piece together a kind of makeshift language,
one which however, does not have any prior relation to truth, any more
than philosophy does. Functions have meaning in creating a referential
point of view, for Deleuze and Guattari, that is, in creating a basis
from which things can be measured. As such, the first great functions
are those such as absolute zero Kelvin, the speed of light etc., in
relation to which a plane of reference is assumed. The plane of
reference, again immanent to the functions that populate it, gains
consistency through the strength and effectiveness of its functions.
Also presupposed by science, in What is Philosophy?, are partial
observers, the scientific counterpart of conceptual personae and
artistic figures.
The figure of the partial observer in science, as in philosophy, is
frequently implicit, and exists to give direction to functions: we
could consider Gallileo as an example, whose functions regarding
cosmology relate to a plane of reference that gives a greater
consistency to the functions that the previous planes, which often
relied upon a religious transcendental structure that damaged and made
scientific thinking difficult by imposing a moral image of thought.
The partial observer in this case would be a figure that makes certain
functions in particular take shape and gain force regarding a certain
phenomena, such as the relation of the sun to the moon: the
heliocentrist.
8. References and Further Reading
a. Main texts
Below is a list of Deleuze's main works, in order of their original
publication in French. Francis Bacon: logique de la sensation is
currently the only major work without a complete English translation,
although one is currently being completed, and should be expected
shortly. Indicated in parentheses after the original publication date
are the initials by which each text is referred to above. In addition
to the following, another resources seem particularly useful to those
not familiar with Deleuze: a long three-part interview conducted with
Claire Parnet, L'Abécédaire de Gilles Deleuze. Parnet suggests a topic
for each letter of the alphabet, and Deleuze's answers, in most cases,
are both substantial and revealing. The video set is available to
purchase in French.
Empiricism and Subjectivity (1953 ES) trans. Constanine Boundas (1991:
Columbia University Press, New York)
Nietzsche and Philosophy (1962 NP) trans. Hugh Tomlinson (1983:
Althone Press, London)
Kant's Critical Philosophy (1963 KCP) trans. Hugh Tomlinson and
Barbara Habberjam (1983: Althone Press, London)
Proust and Signs (1964 PS) trans. Richard Howard (2000: University of
Minnesota Press, Minneapolis)
"Coldness and Cruelty" in Masochism (1967 M) trans. Charles Stivale
(1989: Zone Books, New York)
Bergsonism (1968 B) trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Barbera Habberjam (1988:
Zone Books, New York)
Difference and Repetition (1968 DR) trans. Paul Patton (1994: Colombia
University Press, New York)
Expressionism in Philosophy: Spinoza (1968 EPS) trans. Martin Joughin
(1990: Zone Books, New York)
The Logic of Sense (1969 LS) trans. Mark Lester and Charles Stivale
(1990: Columbia University Press, New York)
Spinoza: Practical Philosophy (1970 SPP) trans. Robert Hurley (1988:
City Light Books, San Francisco)
(with Guattari) Anti-Oedipus – Capitalism and Schizophrenia (1972 AO)
trans. Robert Hurley, Mark Seem, and Helen Lane (1977: Viking Press,
New York)
(with Guattari) Kafka: Towards a Minor Literature (1975 K) trans. Dana
Polan (1986: University of Minnesota Press, Minnesota)
(with Claire Parnet) Dialogues (1977 D) trans. Hugh Tomlinson and
Barbera Habberjam (1987: Althone Press, London)
(with Guattari) A Thousand Plateaus – Capitalism and Schizophrenia
(1980 TP) trans. Brian Massumi (1987: University of Minnesota Press,
Minneapolis)
Francis Bacon: logique de la sensation (1981 FB: Éditions de la
différence, Paris)
Cinema: The Movement Image (1983 C1) trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Barbera
Habberjam (1989: University of Minnesota Press, Minnesota)
The Time Image (1985 C2) trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Robert Galeta
(1989: University of Minnesota Press, Minnesota)
Foucault (1986 F) trans. Sean Hand (1988: University of Minnesota
Press, Minneapolis)
The Fold: Leibniz and the Baroque (1988 FLB) trans. Tom Conley (1993:
University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis)
Negotiations (1990 N) trans. Martin Joughin (1995: Columbia University
Press, New York)
(with Guattari) What is Philosophy? (1991 WP) trans. Hugh Tomlinson
and Graham Burchell (1994: Columbia University Press, New York)
Essays Critical and Clinical (1993) trans. Smith and Greco (1997:
University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis)
Pure Immanence: Essays on a life ed. John Rajchman trans. Anne Boymen
(2001 PI: Zone Books, New York)
b. Secondary texts
A good text that deals systematically with the whole body of Deleuze's
work, that is also quite easy to read, is the Rajchman volume.
Regarding Capitalism and Schizophrenia, there are a number of
commentaries available; the Massumi text is perhaps the best known and
most consistent, although the general level of all secondary texts in
this area is very difficult. The Clamour of Being, by Alain Baidou is
a controversial interpretation of Deleuze's work, particularly his
ontology, from the perspective of another important French philosopher
who knew Deleuze. Michel Foucault's 1977 article, "Theatricum
Philosophicum," is also a significant and well-known interpretation of
Difference and Repetition and The Logic of Sense.
Books and collections of essays
Ansell-Pearson ed., Deleuze and Philosophy: the difference engineer
(1997: Routledge, New York) – chapters 2-5, 6, 7 and 13 especially
Badiou, Alain Deleuze: the Clamour of Being trans. Louise Burchill
(2000: University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis)
Boundas and Olkowski eds., Gilles Deleuze and the Theatre of
Philosophy (1994: Routledge, New York)
Buchanan and Colebrook eds., Deleuze and Feminist Theory (2000:
Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh)
Hardt, Michael Gilles Deleuze: an apprenticeship in philosophy (1993:
University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis)
Lecercle, J. Philosophy through the Looking-Glass: Language, Nonsense,
Desire (1985: Hutchinson Press, London)
Marks, John Gilles Deleuze: Vitalism and Multiplicity (1998: Pluto
Press, London)
Massumi, Brian A User's Guide to Capitalism and Schizophrenia –
deviations from Deleuze and Guattari (1992: MIT Press, Cambridge)
Patton, Paul Deleuze and the Political (2000: Routledge, New York)
Rajchman, John The Deleuze Connections (2000: MIT Press, Cambridge)
Additional uncollected articles Braidotti, Rosi "Embodiment, Sexual
Difference, and the Nomadic Subject" in Hypatia vol 8, no 1 pp 1-13
(Winter 1993)
Derrida, Jacques "I'm going to have to wander all alone" in Brault and
Nass eds., The Work of Mourning pp192-5 (2001: University of Chicago
Press, Chicago)
Eribon, Didier "Sickness unto life – the life and works of Gilles
Deleuze" Artforum, v34 n7 (March 1996)
Foucault, Michel "Theatrum Philosophicum" in Language, Counter-memory,
Practice trans. Donald Bouchard and Sherry Simon pp 165-198 (1977:
Cornell University Press, Ithaca)
Goulimari, Pelagia "A minoritarian feminism? Things to do with Deleuze
and Guattari" Hypatia v14 i2 pp97-9 (Spring 1999)
Neil, David "The Uses of Anachronism: Deleuze's History of the
Subject" Philosophy Today 4: 42 Winter pp 418-31 (1998)
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